


Eventually

by Piggie50



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Adorable Caliban, Badass characters, Character Study/Smut, How is this not canon?, M/M, Penny Dreadful is like a grown-up scary as hell Scooby Doo show, Story and Sex, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piggie50/pseuds/Piggie50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan mates with Victor against his will, and now they must find a way to overcome the obstacles that come their way…together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eventually

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly, this turned out longer than I had planned on it being. But, hopefully that doesn't really matter to you all.  
> Okay, I am astonished that there is not more of these two, so, if you read this and like it you should probably contribute by leaving a comment and by writing a Victor/Ethan fic of your own to add to the pool!  
> Now, I didn't proofread this, so sorry for all mistakes and weird wording.  
> Thanks for taking the time to look this over though and reading!  
> Journey on!

Victor had thought, at the beginning, that it was all some great mistake, something that could be remedied, be undone, something that would have little cause and effect on his life.  
How wrong he had been.  
Sometimes, he wished that he had never met any of them, his new family, wished that he had never peeled back the skin of the creature that they had brought him, wished that he could stop himself from making those snide remarks and quips to Ethan, who, with his Alpha mind, saw them as a challenge, as an offer to mate.  
It was wrong, of course, the feelings that Victor had for Ethan, the feelings he had before he even realized what he was experiencing.  
He sometimes thinks that Ethan planted those thoughts there, to sway him to his side, to make him like the werewolf, to make him want the same thing.  
But, in retrospect, the feelings came before any of this horrible mating.  
Ethan, teaching him to shoot. Ethan, standing up for him to Malcolm. Ethan, calling him bloodless. Ethan, making him feel terrible about himself. Ethan, with his damned brown eyes.   
It was a terrible, terrible mistake on both of their parts, and yet, Ethan had done it on purpose, and quite forcefully.  
Victor still shuddered at the memory of Ethan approaching him in the darkened alleyway, keeping the daemon that Victor himself had created at bay.  
“You’re my mate,” Ethan had summarized with a darkened tone, pressing Victor against the dingy wall, his hands coming up to grasp bony elbows.  
“You’re my mate,” the American had repeated, as though Victor needed it repeated, needed the words in his ears again to make them real.  
Victor had merely stared, his eyes wide and luminescent in the dark night, “h-how?”  
He could barely keep the tremor from his voice, but he somehow sustained his dignity, hoping that Ethan would not mention the tremors he felt going through the doctor.  
Ethan’s teeth glinted in the moonlight, his canine sharp and deadly, “you challenged me doc,” he said, a feral grin on his face, making Victor swallow reflexively, “and a challenge is what really gets me goin’.” His country-laden lilt was charming, yet Victor barely repressed the urge to roll his eyes.  
“You know this isn’t true,” Victor had said, eyes glancing wildly back and forth, searching for that hint of red in the shadows.  
Caliban may have hated his creator, but he could not have Victor killed before he delivered the creature a bride.  
“It is true darlin’,” Ethan had purred, leaning in closer to sniff at Victor’s pale skin, “its been true ever since you asked me about Galvanism and looked me in the eye without flinching.”  
Victor winced, “there are plenty of people who can look at you without showing fear…Ms. Ives for example. She does not fear you as others do.”  
Ethan had chuckled lowly, “Ms. Ives and I are kindred spirits, both monsters under a nice façade. You don’t mate with your natural enemy, even if their abilities are stifled, and they are your friend. That’s dangerous.” The last part was breathed out against Victor’s throat and he trembled, blood pulsing heavily under his skin, his knees unable to hold him as he sank down a little lower along the wall, Ethan’s arms around him suddenly to keep him upright.  
“I want you,” Ethan continued, ignoring Victor’s deficiencies, “I want you more than I want the moon to stop cursing me. I want you as my mate, my partner, my equal.”  
Victor shivered, “I already am your equal.” He wished that he could have kept his mouth closed, for his words surely did not help his case, but Ethan only laughed at him. Not cruelly, but adoringly.  
“Yes,” the American had said smoothly, “you certainly are…”  
This had caused a chain of reactions, reactions that Victor could not contain or experiment on.   
Ethan approached him more often than not, drawing the attention of interested parties, and parties that were not.  
Their small, yet elite, new family quickly recognized what was going on, yet all of them seemed to either accept it, or ignore it…Though they were teased a bit by Ms. Ives.  
It seemed that Victor could do not wrong in Ethan’s eyes, and the looks that the werewolf gave him were positively sweltering, the heat in his eyes nigh unbearable when they rested upon the doctor’s cool flesh.  
Victor sometimes wondered if he could handle it, handle all of this, but, somehow he managed.  
As he worked on giving his creature his mate, Victor’s own mate seemed to be closing in, until, one day, the inevitable happened.  
Victor had been explaining a simple transfusion that might help Mina, should they ever find her, when Ethan suddenly growled, halting Victor’s hand movements.  
Looking at him curiously, Victor immediately wished that he had not; Ethan’s eyes were golden, the molten glow of the moon coming in through the curtain-less window.  
“Ethan?” He rarely called the American by his name, unless is was something serious, and this did seem most serious.  
“Mate,” Ethan had grunted back, before he lunged at Victor, knocking him back into a conveniently placed chair that somehow held them both as Ethan tilted the younger man’s head back and sunk his teeth into the side of his neck.  
Victor knew what this meant.  
He and Ethan were not officially mates.  
Ethan had happily suckled at his neck for a while, licking at the blood pouring from the would that he had created before finding his way to his mate’s mouth, pressing their lips together in a shallow kiss, smearing life blood between them, making Victor taste iron and red.  
It was terrible. It was wonderful. It was hell.  
Ethan gave him mouth a final lick, spreading the blood across the doctor’s mouth, making him sick and dirty, before he pulled back, smiling gently, closed mouth, at his new mate.  
“Darlin’,” he had muttered, making Victor angry and tearful at once, a combination which drove him to push Ethan away and storm out of the room, hands trembling all the way…  
That had happened months ago, and truly, Ethan had been most kind to him, waiting for him, waiting for anything to happen.  
Victor disappointed him. No kisses, no embraces, no hand-holding, no longing looks were cast to Ethan when they stood close. Nothing happened.  
Victor himself felt a little disappointed in that, but he held steady, trying to keep himself above all of these…things that made other people who they were.  
He could not lower himself to be like them. He just couldn’t.  
And the worst thing, perhaps, was that Ethan understood that.  
He understood that Victor was cautious. That he had been hurt before, that he was still hurting from old wounds that were left to fester and would never heal.  
It was painful, yet Victor couldn’t help but feel for Ethan sometimes, when the dark of night would occur, and Ethan would join him in his small dingy room with tea and a lamp, the quiet companionship shared between them enjoyable like nothing of the sort had ever been before.  
Now, Victor wished that he was different, that he was a more caring and loving person, someone that Ethan could be with without regrets, someone who could show him all of the things that he showed them.  
Victor regretted. Something that he had only done a few times in his life before. It hurt.  
Ethan should have been with someone like Brona, kind and unfailing, knowledgeable of the world yet innocent, in a way, in spite of it.  
Victor wondered what Ethan saw in his too pale eyes, his too pale skin, his sunken cheeks, and hair that always looked to shabby for the occasion.   
What was Ethan doing with a man like Victor?  
“I can almost hear the cogs turning in your head doc…what’s goin’ on?”  
Victor startled now, almost forgetting that Ethan was there in the room with him, his silent rest by the fireplace was a stony sort of camaraderie that Victor took for granted.  
“I’m just…” Victor didn’t know what he was doing honestly. “Thinking.”  
Ethan made a noise in the back of his throat and turned to look at him, his dark eyes unwavering as he examined the dark circles under his mate’s eyes, the ashen pressed line of his lips.  
“Well…,” he said slowly, “come think over here then. You’ll be warmer.”  
Victor could not find any reason to deny him, so he shakily rose from his hard chair and seated himself across from Ethan in an old, but still comfortable, plush lounge instead.  
“You’ve been busy lately,” Ethan said, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, eyes trained on Victor, making him a bit uneasy.  
“Work has been necessary,” Victor answered, reclining back into his chair as far as he could go, his hands like claws on the arms of his seat. “I’ve run into some difficulties and have had to work through them.”  
Ethan hummed, “you should relax. Maybe some rest will help to solve the issue, and you can get back to it with a fresh, well-rested mind.”  
Victor glared at him cuttingly, “and what should I do to relax? You know I can’t sleep!”  
Ethan’s eyes turned hot then, the glint in them predatory as he seemed to move closer without ever stirring.  
“You could always let me help. I’m quite good at tiring people out…or so I’ve been told.” He gave a cheeky wink at that, and Victor felt both flustered and jealous.  
Who were the others that had told Ethan this? What made them worthy of him?  
But, instead of asking that, Victor felt a bit like playing with fire. Perhaps it was from the lack of sleep.  
“What would you do then?” He asked as smoothly as he could, “to help me sleep, I mean.”  
Ethan looked startled at first, but he quickly switched his facial features to a more relaxed pose, “why not let me show you instead?”  
Victor was nervous, but, he nodded anyway, biting his lip to keep his calm.  
The man opposite him stood up slowly, like any good hunter, and casually made his way to Victor, bending down and lifting a hand to tug Victor’s bottom lip from between his teeth with his thumb.  
“We can’t have you chewing through your pretty lips now darlin’,” the American said fondly before he leaned down farther and caught Victor’s lips with his own.  
The kiss was soft and sweet, but Ethan quickly changed that when he angled his head, smoothing his hand to grasp at Victor’s jaw, tilting him so that the kiss could deepen.  
Victor had never been kissed like this before. By anyone. Ever.  
As if sensing his thoughts Ethan grumbled happily in his throat, his tongue coming out to flick against their flesh, his spit adding to the mixture that was happening in between them already.  
Feeling his lungs protest, Victor pulled back a bit, his breath ghosting between them, making Ethan lick his own lips, as though chasing the taste of his mate.  
“I love you,” Ethan murmured, making Victor pause then shake.  
The words came so easily from this man’s mouth, but, to Victor they meant something. They meant everything.   
He had only ever said them to one person before, the one person who had meant the world to him then had left him behind to face the cruelty of others alone.  
“I love you,” Ethan said again, not demanding an answer, but simply reminding him before he dove back in, fisting his fingers in Victor’s hair to keep them together in this kiss, this kiss that felt like desperation.  
This kiss that Victor responded to with a sudden surge forward, Ethan taking his weight easily and not even grunting when Victor grabbed his hair and tugged, his tongue darting out to smooth over their lips awkwardly, inexpertly.  
Ethan growled then.  
Victor felt light-headed, the air between them sapped away by some unseen supernatural force, some force which obviously had Victor’s demise in mind.  
“Want you,” Ethan rumbled savagely as he pulled away for air, licking a stripe along the plump line of his mate’s lips, relishing the combination of their flavors that he found there.  
Victor whimpered against him, the words suddenly striking something within both his heart and mind, making him pull away swiftly, avoiding Ethan’s grabbing hands as he moved back against the used chair that he sat in, desperate for air.  
“I-I can’t do this.” The confession was jumbled, but Ethan understood and he pulled away too, looking at Victor was dark eyes that were swallowed by the enlarge pupil.  
“Because you’re a virgin? I already knew that, I can smell it.”  
Victor could feel the flush threatening to rise in his cheeks. The creature that had possessed Ms. Ives had made sure that everyone in the house knew of Victor’s “innocence,” and on some level it now mattered where it never had before.  
“Virginity smells pure, sweet. On you, it’s a mix of sugar and decay, like a dying flower.”  
Victor didn’t know how to feel about being called a “flower,” but it sounded somewhat better coming from Ethan than it ever had from Vanessa and the demon within her.  
“That…that’s part of it.” This was difficult to admit, especially when he could still feel the sting of saliva on his lips, the air around him cooled now since they had separated. It made him feel alone again.  
“I…I still don’t trust that this is true, that any of this is real.” He found that he couldn’t look away from Ethan, their eyes caught in the web of desire that cocooned them. “I want…” it didn’t sound right. It didn’t feel right. “I just want.”  
It was a flimsy ending, but it was all that he could come up with.   
He knew that wanting wasn’t enough, that it would not gain you anything.   
He had wanted enough in his lifetime to know this, but, here, now, it seemed different, it felt like it meant something.  
He had never wanted anything more, had never wanted another person more.  
He detested the living flesh, yet he craved Ethan’s. Desired it like none other. There could be no equal.  
Ethan stared up at him from where he had sunk down to the floor. “I want too.” He said simply, his hands coming down to rest on the thin stretch of Victor’s thighs, the stringy muscles there twitching from the newfound heat.  
“I want things that you could hardly imagine,” Ethan Chandler told him, face feral looking in the moonlight.  
“I know,” Victor breathed out, leaning forward a bit to put his hand on his mate’s face, to cup his cheek that lay rich with stubble, to simply feel. “I know.”  
Ethan murmured at him, and Victor could barely find it in himself to part, so he did not.  
And so, they remained that way for the entire evening…  
The moon was full in the sky once more, and Victor felt the power that it seemed to exude as he walked home from his work.  
The shadows seemed to particularly reach out to him tonight, as though trying to convince them to join him, but, instead, he found himself walking closer to the street lamps this time.  
He was overdue for a visit from Caliban, and he wondered if it had something to do with Ethan’s appearance at his side always.  
The creature had vowed to kill and destroy all that Victor loved, and he found himself frightened that the American would be the next one to be killed, the next one to be destroyed on Caliban’s short, short list of those that Victor cared for.  
But, maybe, Ethan could take care of himself. Could watch after his own back.  
It made him shiver, thinking about Ethan there, dead. On his operating table, in his lab, Victor trying to bring him back to life, to bring back a shell of what once was.  
No.   
He would not.  
Even if Ethan did meet an untimely end he could not do that to him. Could not bring his mate back from his peace and tranquility that he would undoubtedly find in the underworld once he met Brona again.  
It was difficult to even think about.  
“Why so down doc?” The question came from behind him, and Victor nearly slipped on a loose cobble stone when he turned, finding Ethan standing there, hands in his pockets, a forced casual look on his face, even though Victor could see the animal lurking beneath his hungry eyes.  
“Ethan…” he breathed out, coming up blank with a clever quip to the question. “What are you doing here?”  
Ethan’s spine was stiff as he shrugged, “I want to see you.”   
It was a simple answer, yet, it seemed to mean so much.  
And because of this, Victor knew that he was about to make a very bad decision.  
“Come home with me,” he said, holding his hand out invitingly before he realized what he was doing, “we can talk there.”  
Ethan watched him predatorily, “sure doc,” he rumbled smoothly, “we’ll talk.”  
A cold sweat went down Victor’s back at that, but he allowed for Ethan to take his hand, the street empty, so this was permit able, and then they walked together towards Victor’s small home, the glow from the lunar activity above them casting them both in whispery shadows…  
As soon as they entered Victor’s apartment he took off his coat and threw it to the side, asking, “would you like some tea?”  
Before he was given an answer though, he was thrown against the wall, Ethan flipping him around so that they faced one another, the golden shine of Ethan’s eyes terrifying.  
“I’ve been good doc,” he growled, leaning in close, “played nice with ya’ up until now. Waited for ya’, waited for ya’ to come to me first.”  
Victor swallowed clumsily as Ethan put his mouth against the side of his neck, the hard press of teeth making his blood run faster in fear.  
“Like a little rabbit,” Ethan intoned, “heart beatin’ so fast.”  
His fingers ran along Victor’s arm, across his wrist and biting into the soft skin there, “wonder if ya’ know what ya’ do to me.” His words were sloppy, his accent getting thicker by the moment, and Victor inhaled briskly, afraid and interested.  
“So beautiful,” the American was saying, his canines running up and down the length of his mate’s neck, “so gorgeous and ya’ don’t even realize it.”  
Victor gulped, feeling that things were getting out of hand much too quickly, “Ethan…”  
Said werewolf shuddered against him, pressing closer so that their chests and groins were pressed together. “Say it again.”  
Victor bit his lips, liking the husky tone of Ethan’s voice too much to be healthy. “Ethan,” he said again, but firmly, “I can’t do this. We can’t do this.”  
“Ya’ keep sayin’ that, but ya’ don’t mean it, not really.” Ethan moved back a bit to press their mouths together, the fierce pressure just this side of painful, yet so, so appealing.  
Ethan’s tongue bathed Victor’s lips with his saliva, the slippery feeling between them making Victor slump against his mate, unable to resist.  
“That’s right darlin’,” the American purred as they pulled apart for air, “let me take care of ya’.”  
Victor tried to protest, the words striking something with in him, but he found he could not pull away as Ethan slid a hand between them both, his fingers deftly undoing the bindings of their trousers, pulling both of their cocks out so that they touched in some form of strange mating dance.  
Ethan’s member was large and heavy against his own smaller appendage, but Victor did not feel emasculated because of this, for as soon as Ethan touched and saw him the werewolf growled, obviously liking what he saw.  
“Pretty mate,” he snarled gently, “so pretty.”  
Victor didn’t pay much attention to his words, focused instead on Ethan’s hand working around both of their members, the touch sizzling and making Victor gasp and let out a whine.  
“Ya’ want this, don’t act like ya’ don’t.” Ethan licked across his Adam’s apple, “can smell it on ya’, can small the need, the want.” Each word was emphasized by a lick.  
“Ethan,” Victor breathed out, his hands coming up to grasp at his mate’s forearms, his fingertips biting into the solid flesh there.  
“Look at me,” Ethan growled at him, prompting Victor to lift his head and for his light eyes to meet those golden ones, the molten irises drawing him in and making his pleasure amplify until he could not take it anymore and gasped out his completion, his orgasm coming on so quickly neither one could anticipate or stop it.  
As soon as he was spent Victor leaned back against the wall, letting Ethan snarl and tug him closer until he too was finished, his hot seed coming to splatter against Victor’s flaccid member and shirt.  
“Love you,” Ethan hoarsely told him, nuzzling under his chin, obviously seeking attention.  
Victor did not reply to his words, unsure of how much Ethan would remember the next day, but he did reach up and thread his fingers through Ethan’s tangled hair, the strands catching on his thin phalanges, and he let them, unwilling to hurt Ethan anymore than he already was.  
It did not seem fair after all, to not let Ethan entrap him in some way after Victor had already made him so tangled in this mating, made him feel so ensnared in Victor and his very being…  
He wakes to a feeling of warmth along his backside, and he blearily opens his eyes to find himself in his small bedroom, laying on his narrow bed and staring at the peeling wallpaper.  
“Mornin’ darlin’,” the words are loud in the quiet, and Victor almost flinches as he remembers last night.  
His lips feel slightly numb, and there is a dried flaking sensation on his belly that makes him cringe. But, mostly, it’s Ethan’s arm tucked around his waist that unsettles him the.  
“I didn’t think that you would stay.” The sour taste of sleep is in his mouth, but Victor ignores it in favor of trying to justify what is happening here.  
Ethan nuzzles up behind him, his hardness poking into Victor’s back as he does so. “I didn’t want to leave you,” he says, sounding clearer than he did last night. “I needed to keep you safe.”  
It was an odd statement, but Victor chalked it up to his wolf wanting to protect its mate.  
“You could have left,” Victor murmured, “I wouldn’t have minded.”  
It was a blatant lie, and they could both tell it.  
“You would have minded,” Ethan’s voice was low now, right in his ear as he brushed his mouth over the shell of Victor’s ear, the tender skin sensitive there.  
Victor doesn’t know what to say to that, so, instead, he sits up in the bed, his muscles sore and aching from being cramped on the small bed with another, but, his clothes are still in place, so, at least he still has his dignity. Or, at least, what is left of it.  
“I’m going to go and bathe,” he tells his visitor, Ethan watching him crawl out off of the mattress and go to fetch the pile of clothing that had already been placed on a wooden chair by the night stand.  
“I won’t leave,” Ethan calls to him as Victor tries to flee to the miniscule bathroom that he had paid handsomely for. “Even if you try to force me,” Ethan’s voice is close now, and as Victor looks up from turning on the running water to start his bath, he sees the American there, “I still won’t go.”  
It’s a little endearing, Ethan’s stubborn nature, along with his loyalty, and Victor finds himself melting a little at the refusal to leave an obviously distraught mate.  
He considers his words carefully. “I won’t make you go,” he finally decides, “but I don’t want you interfering with my work, or my bath.”  
It’s phrased as an invitation to stay forever, as long as they can compromise, and Ethan recognizes it for what it is.  
His lips tug wide in a grin and his eyes crinkle in the corners, a sign of true happiness.   
“I love you,” he says again, words repeated from last night, and Victor can taste him again on his tongue before he turns away, under the guise of checking the water before nodding.  
“I know,” he says, and that seems to be enough for Ethan as he turns and leaves the room, that dashing smile still on his face…  
It’s weeks later, and the two travel together to Malcolm Murray’s house for Christmas, an event that they had been invited to so long as they decorated the tree once they arrived.  
“I haven’t had a Christmas in a long time,” Ethan says as they trudge through the snow from Victor’s apartment. “Not since I left America.” Victor has no idea how long ago that was, but he wagers it was quite a few years.  
“Nor I,” Victor says back to him, eyes trained on the gray horizon over the grungy buildings, “not since I left my home and family behind.”  
Ethan looks over at him at that, but he doesn’t pry, and for that Victor is grateful.  
It is still painful to remember his mother, happiness going to all corners of their house as he would play with his brothers, before they were quite so cruel to him, and before the happiness faded.  
“I suppose Murray and Ives Christmas’ are big shindigs,” Ethan says after a few minutes of companionable silence.  
Victor shrugs, “perhaps. Then again, with all that they have been through, perhaps their familial numbers have dwindled.”  
Ethan laughs, “you callin’ us kin to them now?”  
He stops, staring at the other man, “don’t you? After all that we have been through, do you not think that we share a bond together? I bond that can never be undone?”  
Ethan has stopped too, a few feet ahead of him, and his face is serious.  
“People may go through things together, supernatural things, but that doesn’t make them family.” He stares into Victor’s eyes then, taking his breath away, “It makes them more.”  
Victor cannot deny this, so, he merely puffs out a visible breath and continues walking, edging closer that Ethan than before, something which neither of them comment on…  
The Murray household is quiet when they arrive, and it’s only the five of them there.  
The tree lays bare in the parlor, but boxes of decorations sit by it, ready to be opened and used.  
A table is covered with treats and punch, Vanessa nursing a cup of it as she smiles gingerly at them, “Happy Christmas.”  
They return the tidings, and it all falls into a smooth routine of sorts.  
Ethan and Victor decorate the tree with Sambene, the former two bickering over what goes where, and the latter simply rolling his eyes and adding a glorious crystal star to the top of it.  
“Wonderful,” Malcolm declares once it is done, Victor’s side of the tree covered more heavily in tinsel and blown orbs, while Ethan has added strings of popcorn and elegantly crafted angels to his.  
They adjourn into the dining room to enjoy the roasted duck and ham that Sambene has prepared, the food exquisite, and the wine luscious in comparison.  
“I think that we should open gifts now,” Ms. Ives says in her rasping voice, a small, yet genuine smile on her face as they journey back into the parlor with full bellies and even fuller glasses of champagne.  
They pass out the gifts in a hurry, the jostling, bustling movements causing laugher and chatter amongst them as they all settle down in a small circle.  
“How thoughtful,” Victor says gratefully as he unwraps his new pen set from Malcolm, “I’ve been needed some more of these.”  
Malcolm, in turn, admires the new cartographer book that he has received on the Americas from Ethan, and Ethan the tailored brown jacket that Vanessa had made for him.  
“Lovely,” Ms. Ives murmurs as she looks over her new comb that Malcolm gave her, the ivory gleaming in the light from the fire place.  
“You’re been needing a new hat,” Ethan tells Sambene as the man unveils his new rounded hat, similar to the style that the American himself often wears.  
The man nods in gratitude and tries it on, delighting all of them.  
They marvel at their gifts throughout the night while filling their bellies with even more deserts and punch, and, at the stroke of midnight, Ethan and Victor take their leave, shouting the last call of “Happy Christmas” as they go.  
“That was pleasurable,” Victor says softly as they walk down the empty street, “I enjoyed myself.”  
Ethan chuckled at him, “don’t sound so shocked doc, you can enjoy things in life sometimes too, you know.”  
Victor stops in the street then, turning to look at the American when he stops along with him. “I don’t think I have the right to enjoy things in life,” he says slowly, “but, I do want to enjoy this.”  
Ethan looks him up and down, puzzled. “Enjoy what?”  
Victor smiles at him gently, the motion all but foreign between them. “This,” he says softly, “us.”  
Then, he moved in and kissed Ethan, tilting his head up so that he could, the kiss chaste and light, but so wonderful, as it was the first time that Victor had ever initiated contact like this between them.  
When he pulled back Ethan licked his lips, tasting Victor, “now that,” he said happily, his voice intimate as he pulled them close together, “was the best Christmas present I’ve received yet.”  
Victor laughed then, deliriously happy with his mate, happy to be in his arms, and happy to be accepted as the snow fell down around them…  
That happiness did not last as Victor worked on his creature’s bride for the next few weeks, Caliban watching his every move intently with his copper eyes.  
“Will she remember her life before?” The creature would want to know her past, most likely, but Victor did not think that that would happen.  
“Did you?” It was a bitter question, yet the doctor asked out of pure curiosity.  
Caliban looked away angrily, “no. The memories of my previous life never came back to me. I was left to make a new beginning.”  
Victor felt a twinge of emotion at that, but, he looked back down at the prone form of Brona Croft, threading the needle through her dead skin to sew up what he had created. To right his wrongs.  
“Proteus remembered his life,” Victor said after a few moments, “he remembered working on the ships, having a wife…he might have remembered more…later.”  
Caliban made an angry noise at that, but he did not speak, instead, he went to sit in a rickety chair nearby, still watching, always watching, but not interfering.  
Victor knew that his firstborn was jealous of his later creation, of the time that Victor had spent with Proteus, of the things that he had taught him, of the care that he had shown.  
Victor understood that jealousy, he understood what it meant, what it felt like, in some ways, and it made him hurt.  
Caliban had been made in darkness and by accident. He had known little kindness and good charity. It reminded Victor of himself at times.  
The monster within.  
It had become the monster without.  
He finished the stitches and tied them off, going to rinse his bloody fingers in the bowl of water that he had set up before. “I am done for the day,” he told his daemon, “but I will be back soon to work again on your bride.”  
Caliban watched him gather his satchel and kit, “will she know you?” He called out as Victor made to leave.  
He paused, not looking back and not looking forward. Then, finally, he said, “not if you do not wish it. I will be a shadow in your midst, like you have been to me, there, watching, but never interacting.”  
He looked back then, into the eyes of the creature that he had created, the only one truly able to do so. “She will know you, as teacher, master, and lover. Be kind to her, in the ways that I was not to you, and she will love.”  
Caliban simply watched him, staring after him as he left.  
It felt different now, the creature thought to himself, watching his creator leave. It was not in fear, but in resignation…  
They met at a seedy pub that night, Ethan chugging down his whiskey while Victor nursed his own at a more sedate pace.  
“Ah,” Ethan purred as soon as he was finished, licking his lips, “nothing like a good drink,” he lifted his eyes to the man across from him, “except for your mate, of course.”  
Victor smiled at him tightly, “of course.”  
In all actuality, he had not been feeling like himself tonight. He felt drained, and stretched, and all he wanted to do was sink into a warm bed with Ethan, though he would never admit it.  
Said Ethan cocked his head, looking him over, “what’s wrong?”  
Victor looked away, down into the amber depths of his drink, “nothing,” he chirped, “just tired, I suppose.”  
Ethan looked worried, when Victor risked a glance at him, and just a bit preoccupied. He reached over the table, presumably for the whiskey bottle, but, instead, pleasantly, he took Victor’s hand in his from where it rested on the table top.  
“Do you want to go home if you’re not feeling well?” Ethan’s brows were furrowed, “We can’t have you getting sick doc.”  
Victor did not answer, instead, he merely stared at the man across from him, recalling how terrified and hysterical he had been when Brona was ill and dying.  
If it was that bad with her, how bad would it be with Victor, if it happened.  
Shaking the idea away he looked back at the other man, “yes,” he said somewhat calmly, “take me home.”  
And so they went…  
They were on Victor’s bed, Ethan leaning against the headboard, Victor balanced precariously above him, trailing kisses across his lips, Ethan’s hands on his hips, keeping him in place while his own appendages rested against the werewolf’s shoulders.  
“What changed your mind,” Ethan asked quietly, pulling the leaner man closer, letting their lips connect once more, cutting off any answer.  
Victor sucked on his bottom lip, twining his fingers through those stringy strands, not knowing what had come over him.  
“Stop talking,” he panted once they broke away again.  
Ethan shot him a cheeky grin, “yes, sir.”  
Feeling a sense of urgency in their movements Victor pulled back enough to undo his pants and tug them down a bit, Ethan’s gaze on him, hungry and confused, feral and worried.  
Victor shivered as the cold of the room seeped into his skin, or, at least, that’s what he told himself that was what it was.  
“So pretty,” Ethan murmured, his calloused coming up to rub along Victor’s exposed skin, little as it was. “Gimme more pretty boy.”  
Victor felt a flush rise to his cheeks but did as he was bid, coming up to his knees so that he could pull his trousers down even more, baring the small of his back and the top of his buttocks.  
Ethan dragged his hands along the soft, pale skin, breathing in deeply, most likely scenting Victor in his haste.  
“Ethan,” Victor warned though, when Ethan’s hands brushed against his buttocks, digging into the crevice there, a growl escaping him.  
“You’ll take me here,” Ethan said, smoothing his fingers down the crevice to the hidden spot underneath, where he would enter if given the chance.  
Victor grabbed onto his shirt, trying to pull away from the seeking fingers, “Ethan, wait, no-”  
“You started this,” the other man told him, irises enveloped by pupil as his fingers smoothed over the tense and dry opening of Victor’s secret orifice.  
“No, no! Wait! Please!” Victor was not beyond begging at this point, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin, his body preparing itself to escape and flee.  
Ethan pulled him closer though, as though sensing his distress, one arm around his waist, the other hand delving deeper to stroke over that furled opening.  
“You’ll take me so good here,” Ethan whispered in his ear, his whiskers against sensitive skin making Victor squirm. “You’ll open up real good when the time comes. You’ll just take it, take me like you were made for it. Like you’re meant to.”  
His fingers were fully stroking now, trying to get Victor to relax, to let him in, but there was no way that was happening.  
“When the time comes,” the werewolf said quietly, “I’ll prepare you so good that you won’t be able to resist. I’ll make you want it so bad.”  
Victor struggled in his arms, able to feel the hard member of his partner trapped against his belly, his own member trying to rise against his will, trying to derive pleasure from this unorthodox moment.  
“Ethan,” he couldn’t help but breathe out, hoping, wishing, that something would happen. That Ethan would pull away, would realize that this was a mistake, that he no longer wanted the wretched being in front of him.  
“Soon, darlin’,” he said instead, pulling Victor ever closer and inserting his dry fingertip into the tight hole, the impact of it on Victor’s system making his toes curl and his back to arch, an orgasm appearing out of no where and gushing out between them.  
“Lovely,” Ethan told him, kissing his ear, then his neck. “You like it then. Good.”  
He removed his finger from the now-spasming entrance, stroking over it once more before pulling his hand from Victor’s breeches, wrapping that arm around his mate also before he flipped them suddenly, Victor staring up at him from the mattress.  
Ethan’s hair created a sort of curtain for them, and Victor could not look away from his dark eyes, eyes with the feral glow, as the werewolf started to rut against him, low grumbles and growls permeating the air around them as he did so.  
Their panted breaths were combined and Victor gasped with him, jolted by the harsh movements, and when he flicked his tongue out to lick his dry lips Ethan groaned and a wet spatter joined Victor’s.  
They lay there, Ethan’s shaking arms holding him up, their bodies barely touching, their eyes only fixed one each other.   
Victor did not know how long they stared like that, nor, he was surprised to notice, did he care…  
He tried to ignore Ethan for a while after that, ashamed and embarrassed by his own wanton desires, but to desperate for the man to truly stay away.  
Ethan was considerate toward him, and Victor found that he craved the American more than he craved his next dose of narcotics.  
Even when he was busy Ethan would stay with him, making him tea and something to eat when he forgot, and sometimes replacing used pens with new ones before Victor even realized that the old one was gone.  
Ethan was everything that he dreamed of, which was why Victor felt that he needed to stay away.  
Victor was a poison.  
Eventually, Ethan would consume him, and then Victor’s very presence would lead to death.  
Caliban would destroy them both; Ethan for knowing Victor, and Victor for being himself once he was finished creating a monstrous bride for the creature.  
It was inevitable.  
Yet, it did not stop them from pursuing their trysts.  
“Why are you so nervous?” Ethan asked one day as they walked down the street together, nibbling on sweetened breads that Ethan had purchased for them from a street vendor.  
“I’m not,” Victor replied, licking a bit of honey from his finger, drawing Ethan’s attention momentarily before he frowned.  
“Yes,” he corrected, “you are. You always look behind yourself, and I can practically smell the tension coming off of you.”  
Victor shot him a distasteful look. “Leave it, alright? I don’t want to discuss it.”  
Ethan huffed, annoyed, but left him alone, though he did start glancing behind them too, when he noticed that Victor did it…  
The time was soon, Victor realized one day as he stood, dissecting an arm in his laboratory.  
He could feel it in his bones, the deep, roiling want that he had for Ethan, and the need that they would both soon react on.  
The time would come before Victor could stop it…and, for some reason, he wasn’t frightened.  
It was destiny.  
A silly notion, he was sure of, but a notion that he accepted in this case. Only in this case.  
He wanted this to happen.  
Their nights of desire of desire would manifest into something soon, something whole that neither could corrupt or evade.  
Victor could hardly wait…  
The day came one night in January.  
Victor was collapsed in his favorite puffy chair in front of the fireplace, which Ethan had happily stoked into giving both light and heat.  
Ethan bustled around behind him, pouring himself some whiskey while preparing Victor his routine tea.  
The moon was no where near to full, but Victor could feel something between them as Ethan sat near to him, pulling a wooden chair close, sharing the arm of Victor’s chair as the American handed his tea over.  
Their eyes met as Victor took a sip, relishing the flavor before he calmly set it to the side, gazes still locked. Then, he pounced.  
The tumbler of whiskey was dropped to the floor in haste as Ethan wrapped his arms around Victor, kissing him frantically, as though they had no time left, and they must do this act now, before it all turned to ashes in front of them.  
Victor found that he felt the same way.  
“I’m ready,” he breathed between their mouths when they pulled away to breathe, “I want to be yours.” The words were desperate, but true, and Victor pressed quick butterfly kisses against Ethan’s lips again, as though he could not contain himself.  
“Darlin’,” Ethan growled, distracted by him, his hands roving everywhere. “I’m going to wreck you.”  
Victor shivered at the words and rose himself up in his chair, dragging them closer, “take me to bed,” he said as seductively as he could.  
It apparently worked as Ethan’s eyes flashed momentarily before he scooped Victor up in his arms, speeding across the room to Victor’s room, all but tossing him to the mattress in his haste, though he followed right afterward.   
“Want you,” he kept growling, tugging at Victor’s clothing, ripping what wouldn’t give right away. “Want you, want you, want you!”  
Victor tugged him down by the ears and mauled his lips rather than kissing them, “have me,” he whispered harshly, lips swollen and bruised feeling.  
Ethan growled again and reached for the small table next to the bed, rooting around in the drawer once he had opened it.  
“Have to prepare you,” he muttered, “get you ready for me.”  
Frustratingly, he sat up and took one look within the drawer and pulled out a small vial and grunted at it, coming back to lean over Victor.  
“When did you get that?” He asked breathlessly, unaware that it was even in his apartment.  
“A while back,” Ethan said, grinning, his teeth bared in a primal fashion.   
The vial was opened easily and Victor enjoyed the subtle flowery scent of it as Ethan poured it over his fingers, spreading it across them slightly before his hand went down and Victor tensed, feeling those fingers probing at his hole.  
“Steady,” Ethan crooned to him, pressing a kiss against his bared shoulder, “I’m gonna take care of ya’.”  
Victor found himself relaxing despite his fears, let himself feel the tender pain of Ethan’s roaming fingers delve into him, the slippery stretch of first one finger, then two, and then three. It left him gasping.  
“I think you’re ready,” Ethan breathed against his ear, kissing it softly before he pulled back and coated himself with the remaining oil.  
Ethan was large and imposing, his member straining against his hold, the glistening head hooded and veined.  
Victor licked his lips nervously, “h-how…how will you fit?”  
Ethan chuckled good naturedly and leaned over him once more, his powerful arms holding him up, “like this sweetheart.”  
He guided himself in with one hand, eyes staring into Victor’s, watching him as the smaller male hissed at the bulk pressing itself into his newly accommodated entrance.  
“E-Ethan,” he gasped out, hands coming up to scrabble at Ethan’s forearms, “it-its…I-!”  
He could not find words to describe this, this amazing feeling, this incredible new stretch that his body was experiencing.  
“I love you,” Ethan said to him, fully inside now, teeth gritted, jaw tense, sweat dripping down his face as he stopped himself from simply taking.  
Victor’s mouth parted, as though he wanted to say something, but as Ethan flicked his hips forward suddenly, all that came out was a pleasured squeak.  
Ethan grinned at him before he pulled back a bit, making Victor’s insides squelch and feel empty.  
“No…” the doctor moaned, pulling his legs around Ethan’s hips, “don’t go!”  
“Never,” Ethan growled out before he thrust back in, hard.  
It made Victor see stars and he pleaded for Ethan to never stop, never leave him, and Ethan seemed to heed his words as he pounded into him, pulling them closer, pushing them to be as close as two grown people could possibly be.  
“Victor,” Ethan panted in his ear as his powerful thrusts made Victor moan in rapture, “you’re so good darlin’, so good.”  
Victor couldn’t respond, because the agony and pleasure was building, and the white hot pressure at his spine was back, making him gasp out as he suddenly burst, his orgasm coming on suddenly and spurting between them.  
“Ethan!” He cried out, clutching the other man closer as Ethan growled and pounded into him harder, taking Victor’s release for himself before he suddenly stilled and the doctor felt a hot splash of liquid inside of him: Ethan’s release.  
They collapsed together, both panted hard, Victor reaching up with trembling fingers to hold onto Ethan’s head, cradling the tender back of the skull.  
“I love you too.” He said quietly, still gasping for breath, but the words were clear.  
Ethan pulled back, mouth parted as he stared at the man still under him, both of their faces serious.  
“I really do,” Victor said to him, trying to make it clear that he was completely serious.  
Ethan smiled then, a slow tug of the lips, pressing his face against Victor’s neck as he mouthed there lazily. “I love you too.” He said, cock still deep, both still connected to the other.  
And, honestly, Victor didn’t want it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Hope you all liked it!!  
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of it!  
> Much love!!!


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